| abstract
| - The safehouse is a bit cramped, as it is jam-packed with equipment for distilling energon from any fuel source imaginable, though coal is particularly not recommended. Bubbling chemistry sets made of glass blown in fantastic shapes twist above lab tables. The light is harsh, flickering, and artificial, as there are not windows. The air smells a bit funny, and the floor is ominously sticky. Contents: A black luxury transport Fleet Outside, in the bustling streets of Pz-Zazz, amongst the countless newspaper stands and milling natives, a single vehicle appears to stand out. The design is one of wealth uncommon on this world, with its amazingly stylish fins and other alien whatsits. Passers-by can't help but look over at the shining black transport, before averting their eyes cautiously away. Clearly even being in the vicinity of something so viable for theft or vandalism is enough to get these poor civilians running for their squalid homes. It's that, or the black-tinted windows could well be concealing a number of wealthy gangsters and hitmen. Good to be in the police district, everyone. Inside, among other things, is Fleet. At the moment, he's pacing around the safehouse, obstensive 'on watch.' Mostly, however, he's fidgeting, both wondering when he's going to have to face the music for crashing the Invictus, and when he can track someone down to organize the salvage operations. Sinnertwin, on the other hand, is guarding the door by standing directly in front of it. No one can come in. No one can come out. It's foolproof. He stands tall and strong, arms crossed in front of his chest like a giant, yellow bouncer. "Hrm..Should've brought Gameboy.." Catechism is trucking boxes around inside of the safehouse. They are curiously nondescript purple metal packing crates. They seem to have been shipped here from Cybertron, oddly enough - aren't the Decepticons more interested in exporting goods from Pz-Zazz, rather than importing goods to Pz-Zazz? Fleet seems to finally notice Catechism carrying around boxes. He turns towards her. "Er... need some help with that, Air Commander?" Alas, not all of the denizens of Pz-Zazz are so easily deterred by tinted windows and the unlikelihood of discovering such a beautiful car. A purple-skinned alien in a denim jacket has been watching the car for some time now, just to see if anyone comes in or out of it. No one has, yet, so the alien approaches cautiously. He taps on the driver-side window, waiting for a response. Worst that'll happen is that any occupants will tell him to get lost, right? But there's no response. "It's my lucky day!" the alien exclaims. "Maybe when I drop this car off I'll finally have enough cash to get off this planet." Grinning happily, the thief gets to work on the lock. "Looks digital..." he mutters, then takes two metal prongs connected to a PDA and inserts them into the lock. After fiddling with the PDA for a few moments, there's a *POP* and the door obligingly opens. "Man, that was easier than I thought!" the alien says, and climbs inside. Then, he busies himself hacking the ignition so he can make off with his prize before someone notices. Sinnertwin continues his stoic and statue-esque door gaurding. He sniffs a few times. Then he scratches his butt. Thrilling! "Or a Crossword puzzle.." The car's interior seems well laid-out, with plenty of space for the various uses the owner no doubt has for it. Scattered across the floor are a number of local Pz-Zazz snack wrappings, with crushed cans and shredded parts of newspaper tucked into the door compartments. All very.. local. Still, luck appears to remain on the alien's side, with the dashboard appearing pretty idiot-proof. Everything is clearly marked.. but.. hang on. What're those strange symbols on the speed-o-meter? Isn't that just typical. You find a decent looking car and it's a damn import. Still, can't be from too far away.. check out those /spoilers/! Catechism looks at Fleet suspiciously as he offers to help with the boxes. She points out, "You could drop a box on your foot, suffer a cascade failure, and die, you know! Are you sure you want to help? You could get Sinnertwin a crossword puzzle. Might be safer." She sniffs. "Then again, he might tear your head off. Never know." Fleet staaaaaaares at Catechism. Then he turns and looks at Sinnertwin. Then he starres at Catechism again. Finally, he shakes his head and asks, "Catechism, what /are/ you going on about?" The alien squints at the speedometer. "Huh. I can't read that... are those... numbers? Man, too many damn languages on this planet. Don't matter, though--" Hacking the ignition, the alien grins as the engine roars to life. The noise of the engine is alien to him, but he dismisses it--this is, indeed, probably an import from off-world. "Money, here I come!" the alien says, driving away. Moments later a black luxury car rolls up to the entrance of the safehouse, possibly viewable via any windows/cameras/holes in the wall in the safehouse. "Or at least some keys to jingle," Sinnertwin says with a sigh from his side of the safehouse. He begins to tap his fists on a wall like a mentally troubled drummer. Catechism sighs, as if she thinks that Fleet is purposely being dense, and she chides, "Well, we all know that you're quite fragile, and you don't like challenges. I just think you should be realistic with what your personal limits are before you start offering to haul boxes around to show off without first considering your healthy, safety, and personality." Fleet raises both hands and shrugs. "Well, if you're going to actually let me get /away/ with that, that's fine," Fleet answers, then goes back to pacing. He straightens and frowns as he gets a radio message, then sighs. "Oh, ashes, it's one of those disgusting organics, isn't it?" A black luxury transport is a strange thing to see making its way into the cunningly hidden Decepticon safehouse. Indeed it is a strange thing to see moving around outside of the wealthy uptown districts of the city at all. Thankfully the tinted windows conceal the punk alien kid from the more aware members of the corrupt police, who would no doubt be curious as to where the alien found such a thing. Never-the-less, here it is. The powerful internal engine muffled by various alien artifacts adorning the gleaming black chassis. With no where else to go, the car eases on its brakes and sits outside of the Safehouse's (grand) doors, awaiting attention as the rumbling engine idles in the driveway. Catechism also gets that radio and suggests, "Go handle the organic, Fleet. Just don't let it vomit on you. It might ruin your delicate paintjob." She continues to move around nondescript purple packing crates, and she calls over to Sinnertwin, "When I get all these boxes sorted out, I'll take up guard, and you can go on kneebreaking patrol." Sinnertwin stops drumming on the wall to turn and give Catechism the worlds laziest salute. "Right! Be careful though. It's reaaaaaaallllyyy boring." Fleet makes an amused snorting noise, then crouches down and pulls open a small slot in the door, peering out at the expensive car. "Yeah? What d'you want, organic?" he asks. The alien approaches the door, peering in turn waaaay up at Fleet. "Yeah, found this sweet ride out there. Looks like a custom job. You could make a fortune off of the parts in that thing. So come on, open up the garage so I can roll this baby in." He rubs his hands together, clearly excited by his catch. Fleet sighs then glances back in. "We got anyone available who knows anything about the worth of local ground-based vehicles? I can't tell whether it's worth letting this creature in is a worthwhile endeavor or not." Vintage Army Jeep rolls in through the SeKkRiT entrance. "Did I hear someone say the word WORTH?" The jeep slowly stops and sits there. A few seconds pass. "No, I mean really, I couldn't hear it all that well. Coulda been.. worse, or verse or something." Fleet gestures to the vehicle that Swindle probably rolled by while entering. Unless he entered by the other SeKkRiT entrance, in which case he's gesturing through the peep-hole in the door he's standing next to. "I did! This local wants to... sell us a car? For resale. Or something. I think. Anyway, this seems more yous speciality, anyway." Gentlemen, you've been had! That's no jeep, it's a Swindle! Swindle hops to his feet, and without looking at the car says, "Tell him we'll give him five quatloos for it." Fleet peers outside and tells the local, "We'll give you five quatloos for it." Sinnertwin leans over and whispers to Catechism, "Five? Pfft! What a rip-off. I wouldn't pay more than three." A black luxury transport remains in the driveway, its shining black chassis marred only by the local fashion and style of having large chunks of curved fishscale spoilers welded on here there and everywhere. Its deep bass engine rumbles on, despite being parked. Guess alien kids aren't renowned for their energy saving methods. Swindle is, for the record, actually offering -fake money-, unless Star Trek isn't a TV show in this continuity. Catechism shrugs and deadpans, "Clearly, they aren't shrewd businessmen like you, Sinnertwin." Catechism doesn't trust Swindle on much, but she does trust him to never overpay. Sinnertwin taps the side of his head with a finger, "True. I am /brilliant/ in the world of business you know." He doesn't mention that he has no clue what a quatloo is. The alien looks baffled by the offer. "What... five quatloos? I ain't never even heard 'a those!" He sighs, hanging his head. One thing he's heard, since the blockade started, is that even if the Decepticons offer you a horrible deal and you don't have an army of thugs at your disposal, you should just take the deal and be done with it. "Alright, fine," he grumbles, climbing back inside and waiting for the garage door to open. Fleet straightens and turns towards Swindle. "He says he'll take it." He moves to the side and starts to open the garage door, just wide enough to allow the kid-and-car to enter. Swindle glances back over his shoulder. "What, really? That's uh.." he raps on his head once, hard, "special. Ow." Swindle quickly pulls out a small piece of metal from one of his 'pockets' and scratches the words 'Five Quatloos' on it. On the other side he sketches a picture of Megatron's smirking head. "Uh.. here we go. So. Five quatloos. What a deal!" He tosses the 'money' to Fleet. Trembling from, presumably, the powerful engine under the bonnet, the black shape of the luxury transport cruises inside the safehouse, one of the welded-on fins scraping at the side of the garage door, causing a small flurry of sparks as the fin's blade scratched at the door. Jeez, guess Pz-Zazz never heard of health and safety. The alien sighs to himself as the fins scrape at the garage door. "Oh for... scratched it." Doesn't matter, he's probably getting ripped anyway. He hates the Decepticons so much. Even the most villainous crimelords he's known had better standards than them. Once the car's inside and parked, he scowls, hands in his jacket, as he waits for his reward. "Well, that's what he said," Fleet answers, shrugging, as the creature drives the black vehicle in. He snorts. "Seems like ground vehicles look pretty much the same no matter what planet you're on." He doesn't seem to be paying attention to the fact that he is /talking/ to a ground vehicle. He casually catches the Quatloo piece, then crouches down and hands it out towards the alien. "Here you go, flesh creature." MEANWHILE HIGH ABOVE THE WAREHOUSE IN ORBIT... Everyone's favorite green and yellow flying saucer that strangely resembles a sumbrero is in Pz-Zazz's atmosphere, running a routine surveilance operation... ...boring as always. His target you might ask? Well none other than fellow Intel agent Turntail! Why? Well it's best not to ask why some intel types like to watch other intel types, the faster we acknowledge this and move on the better. <> Far below him, an organic is getting himself 'acquinated' with the sleek and sexy luxury transport. As per chance, a meteoroid streaks near the mini-bot's location... ...the friction between it and the air molecules catches his interest for a moment. Readjusting his monitors, the Autobot Spacesaucer notices something has occured... <> The equipment focuses and magnifies, trying to catch a glimmer or glimpse of his target. <> Cosmos streaks in from the atmosphere, heading towards the location he lost his 'mark'. A black luxury transport does look a little Earthern, now Fleet points it out. Except it doesn't. Nooo way. Nope. Not on your life. I mean.. just look at the Pz-Zazz trash littering the inside. Totally legit. Still shuddering for a moment after the engine dies and cuts, the car finally settles down in the cramped room of the safehouse. Inside, a red light appears to start blinking.. Sinnertwin scratches his chin in deep thought for a bit before coming to a realization. "What..What are we going to use a car for? I mean, sure, we can sell it to someone, but why do we need money? Can't we just steal everything like we usually do? What's the point of suddenly doing things the legit way?" Swindle draws forth a balance book and starts scribbling down figures with a (giant robot sized) pencil. "Hmm.. lessee.. piece of scrap metal.. fifteen cents. Luxury car.." he walks over and starts peering in and kicking the tires. "huh.. estimated value about twenty-two thousand seven hundred and thirty-six dollars forty-seven cents.. carry the one..." Swindle chews on the end of his pencil. "That means we're making a profit of uh.. a lot. Go us." The alien takes the "Quatloos," glaring at them for a moment. Then, he presses the fake currency to his head for a few moments, breathing in and out loudly. Suddenly, he tosses the "Quatloos" to the ground, screaming, "What the hell is this? That's fake! Why, you--" He seethes, teeth gritting, but he's just as angry at himself as he is at the Decepticons. Why did he believe them? Is he stupid? No... not exactly. He was afraid of saying, "No." "This is the legit way?" Fleet asks, scratching the back of his head. Then he shrugs. "Maybe there's a savings on energon and repair parts. Your typical raid uses up a fair amount in the way of resources. Well... okay. Maybe there /was/ a savings before the Autobots started their blockade and we had to do everything our-" he cuts off as the organic starts screaming and blinks at it. Then he looks around the room and points. "Is that typical behavior for their species?" Swindle blinks his optics at the alien. "Huh? Those are perfectly legitimate Quatloos. You can change them in at any Quatloo-changer anywhere!" Uh-Oh! Anger! Anger means confrontation. Confrontation means kneecapping. Kneecapping means Sinnertwin. "HE'S GETTING VIOLENT! DON'T WORRY, I'LL STOP HIM!" The alien hasn't backed down yet. His fists are balled up. But he hasn't done anything really violent--yet. "Look, I been on the streets too long to fall for that." Except for the first time he fell for it. "Now I want somethin' real! I put in the work to get this thing, didn't I? And I can find more cars like this! Come on." Oh dear. Looks as if the native's gone sour. Always the way, that. Has anybody actually ever seen a sweet native? Michael Caine hasn't. Nor have a lot of folks. Maybe that's why the auto-locks on the car seem to *clack* into place. The transport's wheels gently turning, as the red light flashes a little quicker.. Cosmos loses things sometimes. The Autobots are used to this. They are not used to him losing a person. Steeljaw comes running through the Industrial District-swerving around legs, climbing over obstacles, and the like. He stops every few minutes, and raises his nose into the air. Several deep sniffs are made, as he tries to find Turntail's scent. The other Autobot hasn't been smelled that recently, which is making this hard. Especially on a planet like Pz-Zazz, with such a variety of people... It's the violent organic and not the locking car that keeps Fleet's attention. He looks up at Swindle and Sinnertwin, then down at the creature. "Any reason I shouldn't just step on it?" the Seeker asks. Swindle holds up a hand, signalling 'wait.' He approaches the alien. "Okay, I want to be happy, and you want to be happy, and I want you to be happy, so let's find a way to make us both happy. Does that sound good?" he asks the car salesman. Catechism answers Fleet, even though he wasn't asking her, "They're really kind of gross to step on, I have to say. Might not be worth the trouble." The alien glares at Fleet, surprisingly undeterred by the thought of being crushed instantly, but Swindle manages to settle him down somewhat. "Ok, alright. You got sumthin' else for me? Ok, I got all night. What is it?" He folds his arms across his chest, hoping he isn't being scammed again. If he is... man, he doesn't know what he'll do. "Well, I know they're unpleasant, but they can be cleaned off without too much trouble," Fleet answers Catechism, but he seems to be standing down and letting Swindle handle business matters. Swindle grins easily, making a 'chk' noise with his mouth, winking, and pointing both index fingers like they're guns. "Let's make a deal, sir. Alright, what would it take for you to walk out of here a happy man.. thing?" The Autobot spacecraft is flying through the lower cloud levels, inputting some recently received coordinates into his systems. Narrowly avoiding a small avian creature, the intel bot looms over the industrial district. <> The 'lil green saucer that could gets another transmission of Steeljaw's current position. Without thinking, he inputs these into the systems as well, receiving all sorts of messages of contradictory patterns. << I seriously need Steeljaw's help tracking Turntail? I'm like the James Bond of the Intel division! >> His nav computer pops up with a warning. !!!COLLISION IMMINENT... ...PULL UP!!! <> The alien rubs his chin, looking up at Swindle. Walking away from the car, he glances over the other contents of the room. In particular, he stops by an opened crate, and pulls out a bottle of something bubbly and probably not very safe. "Well, how about some 'a this? This stuff looks pretty valuable..." CRASH! The walls shudder with the motion of nearby impact, rattling the bottles and sending one or two poorly held-up bottles falling to the ground, spilling their contents across the floor with a shatter of glass and a hiss of chemicals. Screams shatter the hub-ub of noise in the nearby street as a second CRSSSSH! Sound sends ripples through the earth. Sounds like somethings been hit, leaving said something with a very long drop to the floor. Man, whoever said this planet is falling apart? Swindle walks over the two or so steps to take him to the crate, and looks inside. "Huh.. anybody know what this crap is? And by crap, I mean obviously expensive goods." Steeljaw is pausing for another scent, "There! There he is. Hey, Cosmos, I fo-" And then Cosmos crashes, forcing the cassette to skitter for cover behind a dumpster. "...this is bad." Catechism had a bad incident with bird strike several years ago. Ever since then, she has been wary of mashing organic creatures. She looks at the bubbly stuff, which is really cleaning detergent, and she proclaims, "Drink mixer." She just might be being serious. Then there's a crash, and she shouts, throwing her arms up, "Battle stations! ...booze stations. Something." Fleet's optics flicker as the walls shake and objects rattle. He shrugs at Swindle. "Something sciency." Then he darts towards the exit. "I'll go ahead and have a quick look-around," he states before darting out the exit. Someone watching close will see him before he forms a hologram around himself, giving the appearance of one of the local small aerial vehicles. And with that, he takes to the air. Swindle waves his hands wildly and shouts at the alien. "Oh no, we're all under attack! Everyone run for your lives, panic in the streets, by all that is good and just in the universe how could this happen and why?!" He checks to see if the alien is buying it. Using this moment of distraction, the luxury transport revs into life! Its tyres screeching in an attempt to find a foothold on the slippery ground before roaring ahead and turning sharply, a plume of smoke pouring from under the wheel covers as the back of the car knocks into a stack of tall crates, threatening to fall under the sudden hit before the car screeches off again, toward the garage door leading onto the street. Bending and snapping apart, the chassis of the black transport dislodges the variety of horrible spoilers and fins, and the shape of a ROBOT appears in the safehouse! Slamming an open palm onto the clearly marked DOOR button, the figure looks back, his optics wide and his features terrified. boy, does this kid not wanna be here. With a series of clicks and whirrs, the car's chassis slides and molds into a new shape as a robot rises up from the sportscar. The alien is tossed around by the impact, barely catching himself by grabbing onto the crate. He drops the bottle, though, and it sails away from his hands, seemingly in slow motion before it at last smashes against the ground and splashes all over the place. "Woah!" the alien says. "Hey, now, I want my payment first!" Of course, then something even worse happens--his car turns into an Autobot. "WHAT THE HELL!?" he screams. Swindle plants his hands on his hips and glares at the car-turned-robots. "Hey, you're going to have to pay for that!" The floor becomes slightly cleaner as detergent spills all over it. Cosmos managed to transform into robot mode during the last moments of his latest flying escapade, speading his arms and legs out to slow down... ...it didn't work well at all. Luckily for our heroic and clumsy Autobot, a storage warehouse broke his fall. Apparently it was stocked with little plush dolls of Kremzeeks, for the adjacent streets are filled with them. Some are torn in half, others on fire. It's like someone beat open a pinata, and it rained out little cute energy beings. Cosmos lays on his back, clearly visible to the denziens of Pz-Zazz. "I guess the jig is up?" Catechism squints at the alien, points a finger, and shouts, "It must be a Quintesson spy, if it's trying to sell us a transforming car!" This is probably the worst conclusion she could draw, all things considered. A local aircar (which just happens to be a hologram containing a Seeker) circles above the whole mess, trying to find the source of the crashing noise. The creamy Seeker center is in robot mode, meaning he doesn't have access to his longer ranged sensors, but he can still spot the clearly visible Cosmos. He makes a call, alerting the others. Sinnertwin stands in a corner of the room, furiously writing numbers down on a cocktail napkin. "Hrrm....no. Okay, so...no..wait...But then...Okay, maybe if I pretend they're apples...Errghh.." He tears the napkin in half and devours it in a frenzied rage. "THIS MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL! GOD, I'M SO ANGRY. I HOPE SOME UFO AUTOBOT POPS OUT OF NO WHERE SO I CAN PUNCH HIM!" Catechism gets distracted from her wild accussations of Quintesson spies and runs over to Sinnertwin, tripping over some spilled bottles of polish. She tries to tug on Sinnertwin's elbow and points, "Look, Sinnertwin! A UFO Autobot for you to punch! Next, buy some lottery tockets." Hiding out as that damn car was hell. Real hell. All this 'Bot wanted to do was cut and run the entire time. The moment outside the door nearly finished him off.. if they didn't buy it.. Primus, he was lucky. And now he's luckier still. With his positioning by the door, the scout Autobot is in a perfect position to leg it.. But hell, that won't look good on the report. Looks like he's gonna have to stay here for the time being.. at least until the heavy metal turns up. Standing by the open door, the Autobot forces a very poor attempt at a grin, grabbing for his magnet-clamped pistol at his thigh, and holds it into the air. "Jig's up, Decepticreeps. You're all under arrest." "RAAAARGH!" Sinnertwin lifts his transformer sized pencil over his head, snaps it in two, and then eats that as well. "YES! I GO PUNCH NOW!" And he stomps out of the saferoom like a giant, pissed off robot. "I'M HERE TO WRECK YOUR FACE UP! ALL OVER YOUR FAAACE!" Swindle points his arm-length shoulder-mounted rifle at the Autobot. "Uh.. okay. I don't know if you know this," his voice drops to a conspiratorial stage-whisper, "but you're a little outnumbered. Might wanna rethink this strategy, Custer." Steeltread pushes up on the garage door he was hiding in, and slowly stands up. He starts to move in, but 'moving in' for the first few feet consists of crawling with one hand and two knees.... Steeljaw winces and flinches as Cosmos comes crashing down. Poor Mini-Bot. But Turntail has been made, and he's surrounded by dangerous Decepticons. Clearly, only the cassette can possibly save him. Turning, the lion darts through the streets, following Turntail's scents, now mingled with identifiable Decepticons. He's coming up from the rear of the safehouse, and scampers onto a dumpster. From here, he leaps through one of the windows with a shattering of glass. And goes straight for Catechism's head. Combat: Steeljaw strikes Catechism with his FACECLING (Smash) attack! Sinnertwin begins Sinnertwinmania all over the town. Sinnertwinmania consists of shooting grenades everywhere until you run out. It's just how he rolls. "I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M SHOOTING AT ANYMORE! ARRRGH!" The alien glares at the bottles he was almost compensated with. It's detergent!? He was sure it was some sort of rocket fuel! And the car he stole was an Autobot! He shouldn't known it was too easy to steal that car! Damn, it's like it's amateur night for him! But at least he's come to a conclusion--he's done working for for the Decepticons. They're not getting another chance to screw him over. "So you're an Autobot, huh?" the alien says, making his way towards Turntail. "Well, I oughta be angry at you, but I guess I'm not. Really, I shouldn't 'a worked for those guys. Stupid of me." Standing by the Autobot's side, he pulls out a laser pistol from his denim jacket, pointing it at Swindle. "He ain't outnumbered anymore. I work for the Autobots, now!" He stage whispers to Turntail, "Name's Hanoc." Is this guy on something? Hanoc himself is wondering if he is, and somehow forgot about. The local-build aircar spies from the air an Autobot leaving a building, moving slowly and cautiously towards the safehouse. The Seeker makes a dive, shutting down his holograms as he does. He doesn't shout 'attack!' He makes no fancy threats. He simply does his best to catch the tankformer off guard before the tankformer knows he's there. Combat: Fleet strikes Steeltread with his Deep-Freeze Ray attack! [Pulled -5] Lions on a plane! Catechism throws her arms up to blow the scrappy little cat, but she's too late, and she now has a feline on her face. "Mrphfle," she manages, and she tries to bat the cat off her face as she stumbles around blindly. In all likelihood, she's going to be faceless for a while, if she gets the lion off, but surely leaving the lion on her face is worse. Combat: Catechism strikes Steeljaw with her Smiting the Heathens (Punch) attack! Turntail does his best to look perfectly fine. If Transformers could sweat, his fake paintjob would be dripping around about.. now. Optics glancing out toward the street, the Autobot looks about ready to run until he collapses. But instead he stands there. Rule number uno. When trying to stop people escaping, you overlap. You don't just run. And he needs this mission. Leg servos rotating, tensing, the Autobot looks about ready to dive out when the kid speaks up. Inwardly sneering, and swearing, very loudly, the Autobot takes a firmer grip of his pistol, and bares a wide, fake smile to Swindle. "yea.. yeah what the kid said. Put the weapons down. Now." .."Name's Turntail, kid. Thanks for the he-" Enter Steeljaw. Now he's really smiling. "Like I said, Swindle, you're under arrest." "GRAGARGHBLARG!" Sinnertwin kicks down an Italian resturaunt. "I HATED THE GODFATHER! AHAHAHA!" Steeltread is steadily getting up when he's shot at from above. "well well.....sounds like the plane parade's here.' he says before standing up, finally. One problem with laying down....it's a royal pain getting back up....especially if you're as big as a buick. Combat: Steeltread sets his defense level to Protected. Combat: Steeltread takes extra time to steady himself. [Pass] Swindle rolls his optics. "Ugh. Why is it that people with the lower hand always try to claim they hold the upper hand? Can you tell me that, Autobot? What's your name anyway? I'm Swindle, if you didn't know." He lowers his rifle, holding his left hand out flat as if to ward off bullets. "And you know what I do around here? Communication. I talk to people. Settle differences. That's what I'm good at. So you and me, let's just talk this out. Because you want to know what else I'm good at, other than sorting out problems, buddy?" Swindle quickly steps in, trying to push the gun out of the way and slug Turntail in the face with his fist. Combat: Swindle strikes Turntail with his Sucker Punch (Punch) attack! Combat: You took 1 damage. Swindle grins. "The art of distraction." Shaking his cute mini-bot head, Cosmos' optics blink once or twice as he pulls himself off the wreckage. Thankfully, the Kremzeek Surplus Plushie warehouse was for the most part abandoned; the last thing the Autobots need is a political fiasco on Pz-Zazz. "By the maker, that was harsh!" he remarks, thwapping his wrist until the broadband signal is reestablished. click click click* Sinnertwin pulls the trigger on his gun but nothing happens. Who knew shooting randomly into the air would cause his ammunition to deplete? He begins the reloading process when something catches his attention. He inhales deeply. "Smell. Smell like..Autobot. Tiny Autobot." He grins, "Like little UFO Autobot.." Hanoc grins up at Turntail. He isn't sure what he's doing yet, but hell, he's sick of these Decepticons. And while he's trying to figure out his current situation, Swindle steps in and slugs Turntail in the face. "HEY!" Hanoc screams, and immediately fires his laser pistol at the much larger robot. "You stay the hell off of him!" It's a good gun, Hanoc thinks to himself. Surely, even one so small would be able to make some sort of difference against a Decepticon?... Combat: Kup strikes Swindle with his Hanoc's Gun (Grab) attack! Fleet blasts Steeltread and keeps on moving, before pulling his knees to his chest, tumbling, and straightening himself out, this time facing in the opposite direction. "I may be plain, but there's just one of me. No parade!" he replies, flipping his dagger out and activating it. "Although I suppose that's pretty plain to see," he adds, leaping towards Steeltread, slashing with a quick snap of his wrist before trying to hop away once more. Whether or not he's fast enough is another matter entirely... Combat: Fleet misses Steeltread with his Ice-Dagger attack! [Pulled -2] Turntail felt that. He really did. Staggering back one or two steps, the Autobot instinctively fires of a short round into the ceiling of the safehouse before regaining his balance, glaring through narrowed optics back at Swindle. If there's one thing this 'Bot hates, its hits to the face. Something he would normally take the time to make a point of, but instead, the words, "Cheap little mother-slagger!" echo through clenched teeth, the nimble Autobot scout soon running in with a right-hook to the faceplate. Combat: Turntail sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Turntail strikes Swindle with his Take it like a Mech! (Punch) attack! Steeljaw clings for dear life as the Decepticon tries to get him off. He wiggles a bit, but it's not enough to dodge the much larger fist. Crushed between it and Catechism's face, the cassette is squished, and then loses his grip-falling groundwards. Steeljaw rolls for a few moment, before shaking off the blow-he's surprisingly resilent for his side. He fires off a few rounds from his pellet guns at his foe's face, and then scampers off deeper into the safehouse. Looks like a twisted game of cat and mouse! Combat: Steeljaw strikes Catechism with his Pellet Gun Potshot (Pistol) attack! Catechism's face is, well... she makes Two-Face look pretty. However, there is no cat on her face, so it's a momentary improvement. As Steeljaw scampers off, he manages to nail her in the shin with one fo those pellets. Ow! She grabs a vial of... something and stries to fling and smash it where she last saw the kitty run. Catechism hopes that Swindle can handle the wannabe cop over there. Combat: Catechism strikes Steeljaw with her Flung Vial of... Stuff (Smash) attack! [Pulled -2] Swindle gets shot in the shoulder with little Hanoc's laser gun. "Ow! That really hurt! I mean, it didn't get through my armor, but it's definitely going to leave a mark. Well, I might need a little touch-up paint." He rubs at the little burn mark with this hand. "No, wait, it's coming off. But ow!" While he's completely distracted by the little guy, Turntail lunges in to wallop him on the jaw. "How'd you like it if I went around shooting -- GAK!" Clang. "Holy crap, is that what that feels like? Is that what I've been doing to people all these years?" he complains, holding his jaw. Then he pops up, drawing his Gyro pistol and aiming it at Turntail. With a pretty cruel grin he says, "I guess I'm just going to have to escalate." When the pistol fires it makes a high-pitched sound like a capacitor charging, and then: WHaaAAaAaANG! "I'll bill you for the energon I'm wasting on this!" Combat: Swindle strikes Turntail with his Gyro Gun attack! Combat: You took 9 damage. Combat: That attack has temporarily impaired Turntail's Agility. (Crippled) Turntail is hit! Clutching at his abdomen, the Autobot staggers back into the wall behind him, electricity sparkling across his plating, scorching and superheating the glue used to stick much of the accessories still adorning his chassis as the smell of molten plastic fills the room. Making contact with the wall, of course, does little to help him, sending him falling to his knees with a groan, supporting himself with one open palm on the ground, processor swirling. He should've run. He knew it. Combat: Turntail sets his defense level to Protected. Combat: Turntail takes extra time to steady himself. [Pass] The vial hits Steeljaw, the chemicals scathing the golden shine off his muzzle before evaporating into the air. The pain and force of the blow cause him to stumble, fumbling over his own paws for a moment, and nearly colliding with a table full of makeshift energon distillation equipment. He stops, and sniffs himself, "...what are you guys MAKING in here!?" the cassette inquires, before unloading his pellet guns at the chasing Decepticon. Combat: Steeljaw strikes Catechism with his Solar-Powered Pellet Guns attack! Hanoc stares at his little laser pistol, open-mouthed. It only burned his paint a little? Meanwhile his new Autobot "friend" has apparently been knocked off-balance. He has to help him somehow! So, Hanoc runs over to the crates of illicit goods, rumaging through them. Then he remembers--the detergent! It's not much, but if he used it correctly, maybe he could use it to make the floor really slippery under Swindle's feet, and send him flying onto his aft! Soon Hanoc is running back into the fray, an armful of bottles in his arms. "Hang on, Turntail, I'm comin'!" he says, and begins chucking the bottles right by Combaticon's foot, hoping to slip him up. Again, he wonders what the hell he's doing. But that doesn't stop him. Combat: Kup strikes Swindle with his Slip 'n Slide (Grab) attack! Catechism shouts back at Steeljaw, "Yo mommatron!" Then, she pauses to rubs her chin. "No, I suppose we aren't making Blaster in here. Hrm." While she is pausing, Steeljaw manages to nail her in the knee. She limps over at after Steeljaw and weakly tries to kick him under the table, like a dust bunny. Combat: Catechism strikes Steeljaw with her Kick attack! [Pulled -1] Swindle rolls his optics. "Oh get up and quit faking you big baby, I only shot you a little." He flicks a control on his pistol and then tosses it from his left hand into his right hand, drawing out an additional pistol with his left. Hearing the clank of bottles, he glances down, then over at Hanoc. "Oh for the love of.. just go away before I shoot -you- a little, instead!" He chuckles easily and grins at Turntail. "Aliens," he says with a shrug. "Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, -shooting-, that's right! I'd forget my rifle if it wasn't vacuum-welded to my--" Zap. "Arm." He looks down again. "Hey what is this stuff?" He lifts his feet one at a time, and as soon as his balance shift the slippery substance shoots him, making him slide sideways, swiftly. "Oh slag! Not good, not good!" Combat: Swindle sets his defense level to Guarded. Combat: Swindle strikes Turntail with his Blaster Pistol (Disruptor) attack! Combat: You took 5 damage. Steeljaw narrows his optics, and quirks his head at the 'mommatron' crack. "Uh. I don't have a mom. Just a really cool 'dad'." This correction does not save him from a swift kick, causing the cassette to yelp in pain. He's knocked under the table, and stays the, hiding from Catechism. The nose wriggles, and his eyes search for a weakpoint on the Decepticon's visible legs... Combat: Steeljaw sets his defense level to Guarded. Combat: Steeljaw analyzes Catechism for weaknesses. Catechism frowns as the cassette does indeed get stuck under the table. Incorrecly concluding that Steeljaw is now longer a threat, she grabs a bunsen burner off the table and limps over towards Swindle before chucking the bunsen burner at Hanoc. She comments idly, "I'm pretty sure there's some moral about ripping people off here, and I'm pretty sure I don't care." Turntail was faking a little bit, it's true. Hoping to get Swindle close enough to him for one all-powerful attack. tch. Aliens, indeed. Instead, as the Combaticon falls, Turntail scrabbles forward to his feet, the disruptor shot sending him falling to his feet with a sharp grunt. What could be a painfully embarrassing fall to the floor, however, is turned the other way when the repainted figure stoops down, and transforms once again into his luxury transport disguise! (Now looking a hell of a lot more like a Saleen without the broken-off bits) Sending his engine roaring, the super sportscar drives, and spins sharply, aiming his tyres for the fallen Decepticon as he drives - aiming to crush the conman under his wheels! Combat: Catechism strikes Kup with her Bunsen Burner! (Grab) attack! Folding his arms behind his back, the robot's chassis reshapes over the mechanoid and molds into the sleek shape of a Saleen S7. Combat: A black luxury transport misses Swindle with his These Wheels Are Made For Drivin' (Smash) attack! Swindle comically slides out of Turntail's way, not even facing the right direction to see him coming. Like some sort of giant robotic Mr. Magoo. "WhooOooOOOAaa!" he yells, flailing his arms. "Stupid alien! If I ever get my hands on you, I'll.." and then he hits a post sticking out of the floor. Clang! "OOF!" To keep from smacking into the floor, he hits his jets, flying up about four feet before smacking into an overhanging light fixture. "Wagh, this is all horrifyingly unlikely!" he yells, getting his arm tangled up in the wires. He jerks them free, sending the fixture flying, and accidentally triggering his Scatter Blaster, arms still flailing.... Combat: Swindle sets his defense level to Protected. Combat: Swindle strikes Steeljaw with his Scatter Blaster Area attack! Combat: Swindle strikes A black luxury transport with his Scatter Blaster Area attack! Combat: You took 14 damage. Combat: Swindle's attack has damaged your Agility! Combat: Swindle misses Catechism with his Scatter Blaster Area attack! Hanoc laughs, claps his hands, and points at Swindle as he slides around the room. "Hahaha, woo, got you good, buddy! Hey, maybe I shoulda put up a sign, huh? Slippery when wet! Now come on, man! You don't stand a chance against the both of us!" However, his gloating is soon cut short as a giant bunsen burner is flung at him. "FWAAAGH!" screams the alien as the huge metal object flies at him, hitting him directly. Worse, the burner's weight crushes him to the floor, and he gasps, squirming helplessly under it. "Oh, geeze, it hurts..." He laughs sadly. "What the hell was I thinking? Ha ha ha--*KAFF KAFF KAFF*" Blood trickles out the side of his mouth. Steeljaw avoids Catechism's wrath-but instead finds a stray shot from the Scatter Blaster has his name on it. He's creeping out towards the Decepticon's foot, ready to sink his teeth in, when the blast hits him. He yelps, and goes rolling accross the floor once more. This is getting old. The Cassette rises, ready to take out his frustrations on Catechism's leg, when he hears something over radio. Uh-oh. The cassette turns and scampers for the nearest unblocked exit. Combat: Steeljaw sets his defense level to Neutral. Combat: Steeljaw begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Kup, Sunder, Mecha Tiger , A black luxury transport, Catechism, and Swindle Shredding what's left of his chassis, the Autobot car lets out a scream of agony before screeching to a halt, the car's form spinning 180 degrees as he speaks, <> Forgetting the threat of the Decepticons, the vehicle folds and transformers, the blocky figure not wasting any time before running to the kid, tossing the bunsen burner aside as he gently scoops up the alien, gently holding him like one would hold a small rodent nowadays. It's cute, but, gross after all. Looking about himself, as if to take in his surroundings, the Autobot turns for the exit - and runs! "Thanks for the party, but uh.. we've got some previous engagements!" With a series of clicks and whirrs, the car's chassis slides and molds into a new shape as a robot rises up from the sportscar. Combat: Turntail begins retreating, outrunning all pursuit. Catechism was sort of standing behind Swindle, which is really the only reason he misses her, claims on the radio aside. She isn't going to dodge very well with a bum knee. Catechism seems cruelly impassive as the bunsen burner does an awful lot more damage to Hanoc there than she was anticipating. Such is the PRICE of deying the Decepticons, kid. Let that be the last lesson he learns. Then, Steeljaw zooms past her toward the exit, and so does the black Autobot. Slightly worried, she asks Swindle, "Think they know something we don't?" Swindle snorts. "Those idiots? What could -they- possibly know that we--" Cue whatever horrible thing that's inevitably going to happen. Grimlock has arrived. Hanoc coughs up a bit of blood as Turntail carries him out. "Oh, geeze. Man, that was pretty stupid, wasn't it? I should've stayed in bed this morning, huh? Ha ha. Man. I'm so screwed." He looks down at himself, tears falling from his face. "Yeah... can't move my legs. Getting harder to breathe. *kaff kaff kaff* Man. I just wanted to get back at them, you know? They... screwed me over. Blew up my neighborhood. Killed my friends. Turned the planet into a warzone... *kaff kaff kaff* But what the hell did I think I could do? I was so stupid." "HELLO!" And that's when Grimlock enters, smashing his way through a handy wall. Behind Swindle, no less. "ME GRIMLOCK HERE TO HELP!" A pause, and Grimlock glances around at the decepticons. "Not you guys, though." Swindle slowly turns around. "Oh, slag. Hey, Seeker," he yells at Cate, "We got this, it'll be great! Execute attack plan B!" Turntail stoops down just outside the exit.. far enough from harm in either battle. The Autobot's not exactly in a fit state himself, his chassis is rented, his abdomen scorched and exposed. Good times. Staggering a few steps, the scout falls to his knees, cradling the alien in his open palms as he looks down on the kid, and bares a slow, warm smile. "Y-You'll be fine kid.. We'll have someone here.. I.." Looking about himself, Turntail cries, "MEDIIIC!" Before looking down again, nodding slowly, "You did good.. real honourary Autobot. We might even get to be partners, eh? How would you like that?" He's not sure why he's trying. The kid's a goner, and Turntail knows it. Maybe its intuition. Maybe its the blood pooling in his fingers. Maybe he's just psychic. As Raoul's tragic alien cousin is carried off, Catechism just stares blankly at Swindle. She's not a Combaticon! She doesn't know what plan B is! She doesn't even know what plan A was supposed to be! She scratches the side of her cone, limping back away from the angry dinosaur, and she asks, "Was Plan B the explosive volleyball equipment?" Swindle yells back, "No, -you- go attack the threat head on, while -I- run back to a more secure location to file the KIA report!" Steeljaw eventually catches up to Turntail, having booked it through another window. He stops, and looks around, "Are we far enough away? And why do I smell bl-oh..." The cassette spots the bleeding alien in Turntail's arms. Swindle gives two thumbs up and nods frantically, mouth open in a (very) fake grin. Lucky for Swindle, Grimlock does not immediately set about demolishing him. Unlucky for, uh, everyone else, Grimlock DOES immediately set about demolishing everybody else, blissfully unaware of the drama outside as he begins to methodically tear down the safehouse! % Well, it certainly won't be safe for very long. Or a house, for that matter. Catechism narrows her optics at Swindle, and she points out, "I don't need to outrun the Dinobot. I just need to run faster than you." How does she expect to do that with a busted knee? Catechism transforms to jet mode and warms up her lift fan with the whine of fanblades cycling up. All this broken glass is going to be Pit on the fanblades, but she endures it and launches off toward the exit. Catechism transforms to her jet mode, which is quite astoundingly simple for the coneheaded model that she is. Combat: XF-35B Astral Lightning begins retreating, outrunning all pursuit. Swindle is already running for the door, transforming as he goes. Swindle's no sucker! He transforms into a Jeep and gets ready to roll! Combat: Vintage Army Jeep begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from XF-35B Astral Lightning Hanoc grins, his eyelids narrowing. "Nah... it's alright, man. You don't gotta lie to me. You... don't get back up from that sorta thing." He makes eye contact with Turntail. "I don't blame ya for this, man. It's my fault. Shouldn't have... worked with 'em. They hate us, you know? They hate all of us, everyone on the planet, even after we nabbed all that loot for 'em. I wish... I wish I coulda done more to stop 'em. Shoulda done more." He coughs violently. "Just... just promise... me... you'll kick 'em off the planet. I..." Though he struggles to stay conscious, eventually his eyelids close, and his head goes slack. Turntail doesn't take his optic from the young alien's body, his metallic features impassive. Just fixed. Staring. The sounds of battle in the distance fade to silence in Turntail's processor. this kid.. this organic.. he could've run. He stuck around, in a battle he couldn't win, for /Turntail/. Huh. Lowering his cupped hands to the ground, the Autobot just remains, kneeling. Head hanging. His normal instincts of survival telling him to run.. to leave. Especially with a rampaging Dinobot so close, and with a lot of things viable to explode in close proximity. "Steeljaw," He croaks, "What was the name of that Seeker in there?" Steeljaw thinks for a moment, "Uhhh...Catechism?" Vintage Army Jeep drives -right past- Turntail on his way out. "Seeya suckers!" he yells, blaring his horn and squealing out of the area. XF-35B Astral Lightning has done worse things than killing a random alien. A lot of worse things. She won't lose any defragmentation cycles over it. She isn't even really capable of understanding the grief she has caused and the revenge she might inspire. Really, the only thing Catechism's thinking about is how it kind hurts to fly through a window, and how she'll need to have her heat resistant tiles redone. She doesn't even give poor Hanoc the dignity of a nefarious laugh - she's off to the next subject. As Turntail is about to respond, the sudden arrival-and-departure of Swindle sends the Autobot reaching for his pistol, holding it high as he growls. "You're a tracker, right? I think I may have a job for you." But he says no more, instead he stands, turning to face the safehouse - or what's left of it. Pistol gripped tight in his hand, while his spare hangs loose at his side, blood coursing and dripping from his articulated fingers. Robot T-Rex! demolishes the safehouse! Boom! It soon collapses around Grimlock, leaving the dinosaur standing in a pile of rubble. This...is pretty much a standard thing for him. Grimlock grunts- and then pauses as he looks over Steeljaw & Turntail. "What me Grimlock miss?" At seeing Grimlock complete his task with his normal.. efficiency, Turntail bares a smile, and turns. "C'mon.. I guess we'd better see to the others. I have a feeling you're gonna be very useful, Grimlock!"
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